A Garden of Faramir Drabbles
by Cressida1
Summary: A series of short glimpses of Faramir's life from childhood through the War of the Ring.
1. Echo

**Echo**

"Father," said Denethor, "I have been considering the defense of our southern border. I thought..."

"Yes, Captain Thorongil suggested it was vulnerable the other day," said Ecthelion, nodding. "I have already arranged to send reinforcements."

Denethor frowned but bowed to his father, thinking, _I will never treat my heir this way._

* * *

"Father," said Faramir, "the orc raids along the Anduin are growing more frequent. May I suggest..." 

"I have already given orders to increase the garrison at Osgiliath," Denethor interrupted briskly. "Boromir and I discussed it yesterday."

A short pause. "I am glad to hear it," said Faramir, and bowed.


	2. Bedtime

**Bedtime**

Two weeks after the funeral, life without Mother was beginning to feel familiar, if still painful. The strangest new thing was that Faramir had become highly reluctant to go to bed, sometimes crying when the time came. A mature man at ten, Boromir at first scoffed, then teased, but finally asked why.

"I'm afraid I'll dream about the wave again," Faramir admitted. "Mother always rubbed my back when..."

Boromir looked at the door to Father's study, closed nearly all the time nowadays, and then back to his brother.

"If you have a bad dream, come to me," he said firmly.


	3. A Persistent Assistant

**A Persistent Assistant**

"Good afternoon, Mithrandir."

The grey-robed man peered over the cluttered library table at the boy standing before him. He tried to frown, but his eyes twinkled. The child was not fooled.

"Ah, young master Faramir. Shouldn't you be at sword practice?"

"I'm finished."

"Or archery practice?"

"That's finished too."

"Lessons?"

"Finished."

"Doesn't your father need you?"

"He's working. May I help you again today?" He looked so hopeful. Mithrandir's mouth twitched.

"Did you wash your hands?"

In answer, small hands were held out for inspection. They were spotless.

"Very well!"

Faramir grinned and scooted onto the bench beside the wizard.


	4. A Good Memory

**A Good Memory**

Faramir fingered his new tunic, a gift for his tenth birthday.

"Boromir, didn't Mother have a gown this color?"

"You remember that?"

"I remember her wearing it one night at dinner. She was cutting my meat. Father was laughing about something."

"Father laughed more in those days."

"His hair was dark, not grey."

"You have a good memory."

"Then you slurped your milk and it ran down your chin. Father said you had the manners of an orc."

Boromir's eyes narrowed. "A good memory is sometimes dangerous."

Faramir stuck out his tongue. Boromir tickled him until he begged for mercy.


	5. Gondor's Spring

**Gondor's Spring**

"It does not seem dead in winter," Faramir commented, gazing at the White Tree's bare branches. "It might be only sleeping, gathering strength to flower again in spring."

"Would you like to see that?" Mithrandir watched his young friend keenly.

"More than anything," Faramir breathed. "It must have been beautiful."

"It was."

Faramir looked oddly at him, then turned back to the Tree. "But a King planted it, and only a King could restore it," he added wistfully.

* * *

Months later and many leagues away, the wizard remembered this conversation. 

"I think the younger son would welcome you," he told Aragorn.


	6. Sleepless

**Sleepless**

The new Captain of the Ithilien Rangers rolled onto his back and peered up at the cave roof. No one had warned him that Henneth Annun was so noisy. He supposed he would eventually grow used to the waterfall's constant roar, even find it comforting, but just now he wished there was some way to make the blasted thing stop.

_If I accidentally shoot one of my own men in battle tomorrow, I doubt Father will accept tiredness as an excuse._ This reflection made sleep all the more impossible.

_Morgoth take the waterfall,_ Faramir thought peevishly. _I want to sleep._


	7. The Hope of Gondor

**The Hope of Gondor**

"My two sons," Denethor likes to say, "are the hope of Gondor."

He glances out the window and sees the young men standing together on the wall of the Seventh Circle, gazing down at the city. One gestures at something below and murmurs a comment, drawing a loud laugh from the other which is carried on the breeze to their father's office.

Denethor's face softens as he watches the two princes: both tall and handsome, strong, noble, valiant and true. "The hope of Gondor," he repeats to himself. But he looks to his elder son as he thinks the words.


	8. Standing Silence

**Standing Silence**

We who remember the West stand each night and face the sunset.

_We look towards Numenor that was,_

Anadune. Westernesse. Atalante, the Downfallen. Vanished beneath the waves long ago, yet still I see its green hills in dreams.

_And beyond to Elvenhome that is,_

Teachers and elder brethren once; our paths are sundered now, but we remember what they taught us. Do they remember the teaching?

_And to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be._

Though the world is changed and the Straight Road lost, we remember. May the Valar watch over us, we who remember the West.


	9. Unknown Quantity

**Unknown Quantity**

He walks lightly beside me, shortening his steps to match mine, and tells me what he's learned--more than I meant to reveal. I'd hoped to distract him from Isildur's Bane by mentioning Elendil's sword, but it wasn't to be so easy.

When he speaks of his city, his voice is warm; but I heard it cry in battle before, stern as a trumpet call. His grey eyes are sometimes hard, sometimes kind, always keenly searching. I remember another voice and other eyes, mad with fury.

He asks me to trust him, but I can't. I mustn't. I don't dare.


	10. A Window

**A Window**

"I must watch, and wait, and think," he'd said. He could not have slept if he'd tried.

Faramir sat by the moonlit Window of Sunset, spray misting his face. Today's news had been grim: Mithrandir's fall in Moria, Boromir's fall to the Ring. Grimmer still were the scouts' reports. Mordor waited, breathless, poised to unleash its fury. Only one small window of grace remained which he must use wisely.

The path through the Window of Sunset led only to death. In the morning, he must send Frodo and Sam through this other window and hope their fate would be kinder.


	11. Under Shadow

**Under Shadow**

Black wings flapping against black sky. Roar of wind. A foul stench.

My body numb, my limbs too light or too heavy.

Heart suspended, trying to beat.

A grey, terrified face looking up from the ground. My hand reaching down–-did I move it? Did my own voice shout encouragement?

Coldness, like drowning in dark water.

Then...

A shaft of pure light, like a star, like the chime of a silver bell. White hair swirls around a blazing face, fierce, beloved. I had thought never to see him again.

And the black wings retreat, my heart beats, and I breathe.


	12. Do the Eyes Deceive?

**Do the Eyes Deceive?**

My head spins. It requires some concentration simply to place one foot before the other. The cries of the throng fill my ears, giving me heart. Only a short walk now across the Citadel...

An unfamiliar voice catches my attention. I turn and stare, for there stands Frodo--or his ghost.

An instant later, I realize it is not Frodo, though this halfling is surely a kinsman. I manage to stammer a question; Mithrandir answers gently, as if I were a child. And Mithrandir should not be here either: Frodo told me he fell. Is the world mad? Am I?


	13. Oasis

**Oasis**

In the midst of so much fire, there is water.

Below, the first circle of the city is burning; above, the clouds are lit with flame from the east. A slow fire burns in a young man's pale flesh, quietly stealing his life. But here there is a small oasis where the White Tree weeps for Gondor. Cold droplets fall steadily into the dark pool.

At a word from the Steward, the bearers gently take up the bed to carry it toward the last fire of all. The young man moans softly, as if in protest at leaving this place.


	14. First Fruits

**First Fruits**

"As you see, uncle, this was a great vineyard once..."

The vines had run wild in the decades of Ithilien's abandonment, but they were thriving. Faramir sprang down from his horse and dashed forward, while Imrahil chuckled at his boyish enthusiasm. Pushing aside the tangled leaves, Faramir uncovered clusters of tiny, green grapes.

"Parties of harvesters in the autumn ... back across the river ... time for aging," he murmured, ticking off the steps on his fingers. Then, turning with a radiant smile: "Uncle! In two years' time, I invite you to my home in Ithilien to taste the wine of peace!"


	15. Topic Listing

All of these drabbles except "First Fruits" were written in answer to challenge prompts at the FaramirFics Livejournal community. The challenge topics are listed below. "First Fruits" was written in answer to a request from Lilan.

1. Echo: June 2004, subject: "Like Father, Like Son"  
2. Bedtime: May 2004, subject: "Times of Change"  
3. A Persistent Assistant: June 2004, subject: "Anything but Angst"  
4. A Good Memory: August 2004, subject: "Memory"  
5. Gondor's Spring: May 2006, subject: "The White Tree"  
6. Sleepless: May 2004, subject: combination of "Insomnia" and "Water"  
7. The Hope of Gondor: July 2005, subject: "Hope"  
8. Standing Silence: August 2004, subject: "Memory"  
9. Unknown Quantity: June 2004 (revised March 2006), subject: "Through Another's Eyes"  
10. A Window: May 2004, subject: "Insomnia"  
11. Under Shadow: March 2006, subject: "Light"  
12. Do the Eyes Deceive? March 2006, subject: "Seeing"  
13. Oasis: May 2004, subject: "Water"  
14. First Fruits: May 2006, request on the subject of "Imrahil and Faramir, post-war"


End file.
